


Long While Ahead, A

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, conversations can be filled with irony and foreshadowing.  Written for Julia for her birthday.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long While Ahead, A

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

The chill wind scattered leaves and debri across the camp, waking Pippin from his sleep. Pulling a well-worn blanket closer, he attempted to close his eyes and rest, but found he was unable to silence the unknown worry that lingered at the back of his thoughts. As the long night wore on, the worry began to manifest itself into the fear that one of his companions would die. More time passed, and the fear became a terrifying premonition of sorts. _Someone is going to die_ , the young hobbit thought, shuddering. _Someone is really going to die_.

"What woke you, Pippin?" a strained voice asked out of the darkness, startling Pippin.

"Oh, Frodo, it's just you." The hobbit sighed in relief, sitting upright. "Nothing, just my thoughts."

"Oh." Silence again filled the camp, except for the occasional sound of a body tossing and turning over a blanket or fallen branch or twig. "Well, if that is all it is, why can't you sleep?"

Pippin opened his mouth to answer, but shut it, wondering, _Why **can't** I sleep_? "I've just been thinking, that's all." Frodo joined his cousin near the dying fire, obviosly interested by Pippin's thoughts.

"What kind of thoughts?" Frodo asked, looking at his cousin with concern. "Thoughts can be dangerous sometimes, if you allow them to linger in your mind for too long."

"I keep feeling as though someone is going to die," Pippin admitted reluctantly, waiting for his older cousin or some listener to tell him how foolish his thoughts were. _They always do_ , he thought in annoyance, studying the shrinking flames.

"Like who?"

"Oh, I don't know," Pippin said, thinking. "I suppose Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas, Sam, Merry, you. . ."

"In other words, everyone here but yourself," Frodo said, amusement in his voice.

"Yes." There was a long pause, interrupted by Pippin's sigh. He waited patiently for Frodo's response, but his cousin said not a word. After several moments, he asked impatiently, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Frodo asked, sounding confused.

"Aren't you going to tell me how ridiculous I am, or try to 'comfort' me? That is what everyone else here does."

"I don't have any advice at the moment," Frodo answered kindly, "but I certainly don't think you are ridiculous." He studied the camp site, squinting to make out the shapes of the other Fellowship members in the darkness. "You needn't worry, though. Most of those here can hold their own in battle. Gandalf is a wizard, Aragorn is skilled with the blade, Legolas is an elf and has had thousands of years to perfect his art, and Gimli is an expert with his ax."

"What about Merry, Sam and you?"

Frodo smiled slightly, and said, "I think that we will be fine."

Pippin also smiled, comforted by his cousin's words. A thought suddenly filled his mind unbeckoned, and it chilled him to the core. _What about Boromir_? "Boromir . . . he will be fine, won't he?"

"Of course!" Frodo answered, heading back toward his sleeping spot. "His father is the Steward of Gondor, and no doubt he's practiced with the sword for years." He paused, sitting down on his blankets. "Besides, he's only in his early thirties, and has a long while ahead of him."

"Good night, Frodo," Pippin called lightly, laying his head down on the ground. _Don't worry_ , he told himself, feeling sleep call him. _Boromir has a long while ahead of him, just like Frodo said_.


End file.
